"What damage, mmm? Well, well. Distractions? A funny little trick perhaps, they might think." Heaffected a deeper, younger voice. "'Take his children and see if he comes out! Slaughter the daughters, slay the mother, and steal his sons to teach them the meaning of loyalty and suffering for it.'" And oh, how the traitor cackled, tossing his head back just enough to enjoy the action without flipping up his hood - a perversion of a wolf howling to the moon.
"Will they take them or kill them all? Or will you hide them perhaps, to add stress to the search? I care not if I sire many or little or none at all, my sweet, for they are either someone's baggage, someone's trash, or someone's treasure - and frankly, I like my shinies. Maybe I'll snatch one for myself, maybe I'll leave them all with you. Or perhaps I'll eat one if he is lame and small and ill-fit to live; that is, if you do not eat him first," he added with another bark of laughter, close enough to touch her face, his cloak pressed against her fur. "So many maybes, you must love that so! Let it be as it will and we shall think on our paws from there, mmm?"
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